by Emma Wolf
Chapter XI.
She told her mother in a few words at luncheon that she had arranged totake Spanish lessons from a young protege of Dr. Kemp, who had been illand was in want.
"And I was thinking," she added with naive policy, "that I might combinea little business with pleasure this afternoon,--pay off some of thoseever urgent calls you accuse me of outlawing, and at the same time tryto get up a class of pupils for Miss Delano. What do you think?"
"That would be nice; don't forget Mrs. Bunker. I know you don't likeher, but you must pay a call for the musical which we did not attend;and she has children who might like to learn Spanish. I wonder if Icould take lessons too; it would not be exciting, and I am not yet soold but I may learn."
"You might ask the doctor. He has almost dismissed himself now; andafter we get back from the country perhaps Jennie would join us two in aclass. Mother and daughter can then go to school together."
"It is very fortunate," Mrs. Levice observed pensively, sipping hernecessary glass of port, "that C---- sent your hat this morning to wearwith your new gown. Isn't it?"
"Fortunate!" Ruth exclaimed, laughing banteringly; "it is destiny."
So Mrs. Levice slipped easily into Ruth's plan from a social standpoint,and Ruth slipped out, trim and graceful, from her mother's artisticmanipulations.
Meanwhile Mrs. Levice intended writing some delayed letters till herhusband's return, which promised to be early in the afternoon.
She had just about settled herself at her desk when Jennie Lewis camebustling in. Mrs. Lewis always brought in a sense of importance; onelooked upon her presence with that exhilarating feeling with which oneanticipates the latest number of a society journal.
"Go right on with your writing, Aunt Esther," she said after they hadexchanged greetings. "I have brought my work, so I shall not mind thequiet in the least."
"As if I would bore you in that way!" returned Mrs. Levice, with alaughing glance at her, as she closed her desk. "Lay off your things,and let us have a downright comfortable afternoon. Don't forget a singlesensation; I am actually starving for one."
Mrs. Lewis smiled grimly as she fluffed up her bang with her hat-pin.She drew up a second cosey rocking-chair near her aunt's, drew out herneedle and crochet-work, and as the steel hook flashed in and out, hertongue soon acquired its accustomed momentum.
"Where is Ruth?" she began, winding her thread round her chubby,ring-bedecked finger.
"She is paying off some calls for a change."
"Indeed! Got down to conventionality again?" "You would not call herunconventional, would you?"
"Oh, well; every one has a right to an opinion."
Mrs. Levice glanced at her inquiringly. Without doubt there was anunderground mine beneath this non-committal remark. Mrs. Lewis rockedviolently backward and forward without raising her eyes. Her face wasbeet-red, and it looked as if an explosion were imminent. Mrs. Levicewaited with no little speculation as to what act of Ruth her cousindisapproved of so obviously. She like Jennie; every one who knew herrecognized her sterling good heart; but almost every one who knew heragreed that a grain of flour was a whole cake, baked and iced, toMrs. Lewis's imagination, and these airy comfits were passed aroundpromiscuously to whoever was on hand. Not a sound broke the portentoussilence but the decided snap with which Mrs. Lewis pulled her needlethrough, and the hurricane she raised with her rocking.
"I was at the theatre last night."
The blow drew no blood.
"Which theatre?" asked Mrs. Levice, innocently.
"The Baldwin; Booth played the 'Merchant of Venice.'"
"Did you enjoy it?" queried her aunt, either evading or failing toperceive the meaning.
"I did." A pause, and then, "Did Ruth?"
Mrs. Levice saw a flash of daylight, but her answer hinted at noperturbation.
"Very much. Booth is her actor-idol, you know."
"So I have heard." She spread her crochet work on her knee as ifmeasuring its length, then with striking indifference picked it up againand adjusted her needle,--
"She came in rather late, didn't she?"
"Did she?" questioned Mrs. Levice, parrying with enjoyment the indirectthrusts. "I did not know; had the curtain risen?"
"No; there was plenty of time for every one to recognize her."
"I had no idea she was so well known."
"Those who did not know her, knew her escort. Dr. Kemp is well known,and his presence is naturally remarked."
"Yes; his appearance is very striking."
"Aunt Esther!" The vehemence of Mrs. Lewis's feelings sent her ball ofcotton rolling to the other end of the room.
"My dear, what is it?" Mrs. Levice turned a pair of bright, interestedeyes on her niece.
"You know very well what I wish to say: everybody wondered to see Ruthwith Dr. Kemp."
"Why?"
"Because every one knows that she never goes out with any gentleman butUncle or Louis, and we all were surprised. The Hoffmans sat behind us,and Miss Hoffman leaned forward to ask what it meant. I met severalacquaintances this morning who had been there, and each one made someremark about Ruth. One said, 'I had no idea the Levices were so intimatewith Dr. Kemp;' another young girl laughed and said, 'Ruth Levice had aswell escort last night, didn't she?' Still another asked, 'Anything onthe tapis in your family, Mrs. Lewis?' And what could I say?"
"What did you say?"
Mrs. Levice's quiet tone did not betray her vexation. She had fearedjust such a little disturbance from the Jewish community, but herhusband's views had overruled hers, and she was now bound to uphold his.Nevertheless, she hated anything of the kind.
"I simply said I knew nothing at all about it, except that he was yourphysician. Even if I had known, I wouldn't have said more."
"There is no more to be said. Dr. Kemp and Ruth have become friendlythrough their mutual interest in several poor patients; and in thecourse of conversation one morning he heard that Ruth was anxious tosee this play, and had no escort. So he asked her, and her father sawno objection to her going. It is a pity she didn't think to hand round awritten explanation to her different Jewish friends in the theatre."
"There you go, Aunt Esther! Jewish friends! I am sure that no matter howindifferent Uncle is to such things, you must remember that our Jewishgirls never go alone to the theatre with any one outside of the family,and certainly not with a Christian."
"What has that to do with it, so long as he is a gentleman?"
"Nothing. Only I didn't think you cared to have Ruth's name coupled withone."
"No, nor with any one. But as I cannot control people's tongues--"
"Then I would not give them cause for wagging. Aunt Esther, is thereanything between Ruth and Dr. Kemp?"
"Jennie, you surprise and anger me. Do you know what you insinuate?"
"I can't help it. Either you are crazy, or ignorant of what is going on,and I consider it my duty to enlighten you,"--a gossip's duties are allaway from home,--"unless, of course, you prefer to remain in blissful orwilful ignorance."
"Speak out, please."
"Of course I knew you must have sanctioned her going last night, though,I must confess, I still think you did very wrongly; but do you knowwhere she went this morning?"
Mrs. Levice was put out. She was enough of a Jewess to realize thatif you dislike Jewish comment, you must never step out of the narrowlyconventional Jewish pathway. That Ruth, her only daughter, should bethe subject of vulgar bandying was more bitter than wormwood to her; butthat her own niece could come with these wild conjectures incensed herbeyond endurance.
"I do know," she said in response to the foregoing question. "Ruth isnot a sneak,--she tells me everything; but her enterprises are so mildthat there would be no harm if she left them untold. She called on apoor young girl who, after a long illness, desires pupils in Spanish."
"A friend of Dr. Kemp."
"Exactly."
"A young girl, unmarried, who, a few weeks ago, through a merciful fate,lost her ch
ild at its birth."
The faint flush on Mrs. Levice's cheek receded.
"Who told you this?" she questioned in an even, low voice.
"I thought you could not know. Mrs. Blake, the landlady where the girllives, told me."
"And how, pray, do you connect Ruth with this girl?"
"I will tell you. Mrs. Blake does my white sewing. I was there thismorning; and just as I went into her room, I saw Ruth leaving anotherfarther down the hall. Naturally I asked Mrs. Blake who had the room,and she told me the story."
"Naturally." The cutting sarcasm drove the blood to Mrs. Lewis's face.
"For me it was; and in this case," she retorted with rising accents, "myvulgar curiosity had its vulgar reward. I heard a scandalous account ofthe girl whom my cousin was visiting, and, outside of Dr. Kemp, Ruth isthe only visitor she has had."
"I am sorry to hear this, Jennie."
"I know you are, Aunt Esther. But what I find so very queer is that Dr.Kemp, who pretends to be her friend,--and I have seen them together manytimes,--should have sent her there. Don't you?"
"I do not understand it at all,--neither Ruth nor him."
"Surely you don't think Ruth knew anything of this?" questioned Mrs.Lewis, leaning forward and raising her voice in horror.
"Of course not," returned Mrs. Levice, rather lamely. She had long agoacknowledged to herself that there were depths in her daughter's naturethat she had never gauged.
"I know what an idol his patients make of him, but he is a mannevertheless; and though you may think it horrible of me, it struck meas very suggestive that he was that girl's only friend."
"Therefore he must have been a good friend."
Mrs. Lewis bounded from her chair and turned a startled face to Mr.Levice, who had thus spoken, standing in the doorway. Mrs. Levicebreathed a sigh of hysterical relief.
"Good-afternoon, Jennie," he said, coming into the room and shaking herhand; "sit down again. Good-afternoon Esther;" he stooped to kiss hiswife.
Mrs. Lewis's hands trembled; she looked, to say the least, ashamed. Shehad been caught scandal-mongering by her uncle, Jules Levice, the headand pride of the whole family.
"I am sorry I heard what I did, Jennie; sorry to think that you areso poor as to lay the vilest construction on an affair of which youevidently know nothing, and sorry you could not keep your views toyourself." It was the habit of all of Levice's relatives to listen insilence to any personal reprimand the dignified old man might offer.
"I heard a good part of your conversation, and I can only characterizeit as--petty. Can't you and your friends see anything without springingat shilling-shocker conclusions? Don't you know that people sometimesenjoy themselves without any further design? So much for the theatretalk. What is more serious is the fact that you could so misjudge myhonorable friend, Dr. Kemp. Such a thing, Jennie, my girl, would be asremote from Dr. Kemp's possibilities as the antipodes. Remember, what Isay is indisputable. Whether Ruth knew the story of this girl or not,I cannot say, but either way I feel assured that what she did waswell done--if innocently; if with knowledge, so much the better. And Iventure to assert that she is not a whit harmed by the action. Inall probability she will tell us all the particulars if we ask her.Otherwise, Jennie, don't you think you have been unnecessarily alarmed?"The benign gentleness of his question calmed Mrs. Lewis.
"Uncle," she replied earnestly, "in my life such things are nottrivial; perhaps because my life is narrower. I know you and Ruth take adifferent view of everything."
"Don't disparage yourself; people generally do that to be contradictedor to show that they know their weaknesses and have never cared tochange them. A woman of your intelligence need never sink to the levelof a spiteful chatterbox; every one should keep his tongue sheathed, forit is more deadly than a sword. Your higher interests should make youoverlook every little action of your neighbors. You only see or hearwhat takes place when the window is open; you can never judge from thiswhat takes place when the window is shut. How are the children?"
By dint of great tenderness he strove to make her more at ease.
Ruth, confronted with their knowledge, confessed, with flushed cheeksand glowing eyes, her contretemps.
"And," she said in conclusion, "Father, Mamma, nothing you can say willmake me retract anything I have done or purpose doing."
"Nothing?" repeated her father.
"I hope you won't ask me to, but that is my decision."
"My darling, I dislike to hear you call yourself a mule," said herfather, looking at her with something softer than disapproval; "but inthis case I shall not use the whip to turn you from your purpose. Eh,Esther?"
"It is Quixotic," affirmed Mrs. Levice; "but since you have gone so far,there is no reasonable way of getting out of it. When next I see thedoctor, I shall speak to him of it."
"There will be no occasion, dear," remonstrated the indulgent father, atsight of the annoyed flash in Ruth's eyes; "I shall."
By which it will be seen that the course of an only child is not sosmooth as one of many children may think; every action of the formerassumes such prominence that it is examined and cross-examined, and veryoften sent to Coventry; whereas, in a large family, the happy-go-luckyoffspring has his little light dimmed, and therefore less remarked,through the propinquity of others.